


A Chance Meeting

by VivienneStrongarm



Series: SSO Wild West [2]
Category: Star Stable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 14:32:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17225804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VivienneStrongarm/pseuds/VivienneStrongarm
Summary: Viv meets a very special horse for the first timePart of the SSO Wild West AU





	A Chance Meeting

The blackberry juice had stained their fingers purple, and they were scratched up and down with brambles, but for the first time since leaving Marie behind, Viv was truly happy. From the moment they had left Kildare, there had been storms, and the rickety boat had threatened to capsize, but they had landed safely enough on the shores of the New World. Then there had been the journey to New Jorvik, which had seen Moll bitten by a rattlesnake and Jimmy decide to settle in one of the towns they’d passed through in order to nurse her. And Marie had decided to stay in the port where they landed, too in love with the sea – and a handsome sailor – to go any further inland.  
Only Viv had made it to New Jorvik, and had found the mines they’d travelled all this way for closed, and people unwilling to say why, beyond that there had been ‘some trouble’. So they’d fallen back to herbs, to potions and small bottled promises to ease pain and help the aches go away. It’d taken the last of their savings to get a small shop on the outskirts of town rented, and they were willing to bet that the landlady was charging double for an immigrant. Business had been slow, and word had taken it’s time to get around, but there were a few people coming through their shop now, especially when they began to mix draughts and tinctures for their horses too, and Viv’s coinpurse jingled comfortingly. The townsfolk were beginning to give them smiles, and the names they called them were whispered now, instead of said to their face.  
But for now, their garden was flourishing, the berries were sweet, the sun was shining, and Viv could forget their past problems and turn their attention to the future.  
They needed a horse. Without one, there was a limit to how far they could forage for ingredients, and though Marie sent through all the supplies she could – and often those fresh from the ships – the coaches carrying the post were hampered by bandits and rough terrain, and not all of Marie’s gifts made it. But if Viv had a horse, then the open plains around New Jorvik were theirs, and more customers with it.  
But more than that, they missed riding. There hadn’t been any way to bring River with them, and so the grey-muzzled, knock-kneed carthorse had stayed home, along with their brother, Felix, to while away gentle hours in peace. Viv missed them both, desperately, but it was for them that they were here in any case.  
They’d heard a few places around New Jorvik sold horses, and had walked by Moorland’s ranch, but the horses were well-bred, strong and fit. No possible way Viv could afford one yet, and they weren’t about to embarrass themselves by asking to take a look. It would have to wait until a travelling market came through – they often carried a few ex-mining horses, or a broken-winded drafter whose pulling days were behind him.  
There was a crack from behind them, and Viv stood sharply, trying to work out where it had come from. There was another crack, and a faint thudding, and Viv grabbed their gun from their belt and raised it. They weren’t the best shot, but they could at least get off a warning if it was an outlaw lurking in the undergrowth. The bushes rustled again, and Viv’s hand tightened on the trigger, only to drop away as a horse stumbled into view.  
The horse was tall and rangy, with a wild eye to her, and a beautiful blue roan coat, speckled all over with cornspots. But that coat was darkened by blood and marred by a long set of scratches from the base of her neck and across her back. Viv slowly holstered their gun again, and moved forward a little, carefully. “Hey, there. Hey, sweet lady. Calm yourself, yes? Just calm,” they said, creeping forward a little. “Calm, now. I won’t hurt you. Easy.”  
The horse raised her head a little and eyed Viv suspiciously. She snorted and Viv stopped, waiting for the mare to relax. They plucked a blackberry from the bushes and tossed it towards the horse. The mare took it.  
“There’s a good girl,” Viv said soothingly, as they slowly undid the rope holding the gate shut and coiled it up. “Good lass. Easy.” They rolled another berry across the hard ground, and the horse ate it more readily this time. They edged forward again, and the horse snorted nervously, backing off a couple of paces. Viv sighed and threw her another berry.

It must have taken an hour, maybe more, with Viv trading berries for small steps until they were up close to the horse, close enough to see their own reflection in the mare’s eyes. They held out a handful of berries, and after a moment’s hesitation, the mare reached out and nuzzled Viv’s hands, taking the berries with lips like velvet.  
Viv laughed softly as they felt the mare’s hot breath against their hand. “Good girl,” they said, raising a gentle hand to the horse’s neck. “Good girl. Easy, sweet lady.” The horse flinched as Viv touched her, but didn’t back off. “Beautiful,” Viv whispered softly. “Let’s see what we can do about those wounds, shall we?” They slid the rope over the horse’s head and the world exploded.  
“Easy! Calm down!” The mare didn’t listen as she reared and plunged, trying to free herself from the rope. Viv was dragged after her, the rope burning up their hands, their boots slipping on the dusty soil. The mare was going to kill them, they realised. They had travelled halfway around the world and they were going to be trampled to death by an angry horse.  
The mare pulled forward, neighing and squealing, and Viv lost their nerve. They dropped the rope. The horse didn’t even seem to notice as she continued to spin and buck, but Viv could see her tiring. Her legs shaky and her sides heaving, the mare dropped into a trot, then a walk, still shaking her head. “Easy now,” Viv said gently. “Calm yourself. It’s like you never had a rope on before, lass.”  
The horse snorted, and Viv got up slowly, their hands out. “Calm, hey? I just want to help.” In one deft movement, they snatched up the rope. There was an old stockpen out the back of their property – it wouldn’t do forever, but it would suffice for a few days, until they found out where the horse was from. They tugged the rope lightly, and the mare, exhausted by her injuries and her spook, followed.  
The gate closed behind them both, and the mare snorted and danced sideways, her eyes rolling, and Viv stroked her neck. “Nothing to worry about, lass. You’re safe now. We’ll get you cleaned up, huh?”  
The mare nickered as Viv tied the rope to one of the posts and stepped back. Now she was still, Viv realised something – there was no brand mark on her. Her shoulders and her rump were completely clear, even though she was definitely old enough to be ridden. And those scratches must have come from some giant predator, almost as if the mare had been running wild.  
A mustang, then. Viv had heard of the bands of wild horses roaming the plains, but had only glimpsed them once or twice. And now they’d caught one. They’d actually caught one, if only by accident. But they needed a horse, and the mare would take time to recuperate. And underneath the scratches, she was well-built and strong. Strong enough to carry them, perhaps? They’d helped train River – how different could a mustang be?  
“You need a name,” Viv mused, as they hauled a bucket of water up from the well and set it in the pen. They hummed an old tune as the mare drank gratefully, and the memory rose, unbidden; a small, dank ship, lurching in the storm, whilst belowdecks, they sang the songs of their home. “You’ve got a storm in you, lass, no doubt on that. Stormsong, how about that?” The mare nickered softly, and Viv smiled. “Stormsong, then. Let’s get those wounds seen to.”


End file.
